


Doom of the Goose

by CyborgV2



Series: For the Goose of it [1]
Category: The Dresden Files - Jim Butcher
Genre: Asexuality Spectrum, Demisexuality, First Time Blow Jobs, Fuck Or Die, M/M, Prostitution, Semi-Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-10
Updated: 2021-03-15
Packaged: 2021-03-16 20:00:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29955123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CyborgV2/pseuds/CyborgV2
Summary: Life was unfair, the lightning struck goose, the ghost of an unremarkable house wife and I agreed about that.Bob was having the time of his life.Or this is what happens when I try to write a short fuck or die fic.(no non-con, not even particularly dubious)
Relationships: Harry Dresden/Johnny Marcone
Series: For the Goose of it [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2203116
Comments: 5
Kudos: 16





	1. It not that funny Bob

There are some days that you really wish you didn’t have to live through. Even before today had started, I knew I would need to take a wire brush, bleach, and scrub today from my mind. It was 3 days before my birthday – Halloween – because a wizard named Harry wasn’t enough of a cliche already.

I had checked multiple sources –mainly because I trusted Bob, in this matter at least, about as much as I trusted Mister, my very large cat, with the wellbeing of a mouse. Bob was great, when it came to knowledge of all things arcane, but he was a horn dog. I paid him for his priceless knowledge in porn mags. No, if I hadn’t been really, really desperate for another option I wouldn’t have gone to him at all.

Bob had laughed when he had heard, I had known he would. In the first minute of laughter, I was wondering if it was possible to smother a spirit of air and intellect. After five I had my answer, no one who needed to breathe could laugh that long uninterrupted.  
I stalked grumpily along in the autumn air as I thought about my conversation with Bob. 

“Bos..” Bob stopped there—before he even got the first word out—for another 10 second laugh, after the first five minute one. I glared harder at the human skull, that amount of laughter was just unnecessary. Bobs skull had a prominent place on the rows of overcrowded shelves, in my Lab, located in the sub-basement of my apartment. Clearly my glare had some effect as Bob made an effort to get himself under control.

“yo..you got Ledavitis, and this is the sym…symptom.” Bob went off on another crackling spree. But I appreciated his effort to keep his glowing orange eyes above my waist. I reflected briefly that life really was unfair. Sure, as a wizard you were immune to silly little things like the cold or the flu, god damn I would kill for a flu right now, but wizards got stupid things like Ledavitis from getting a little too close to an infected ghost. Ghosts as plague carriers. Will life’s wonders ever cease. 

Ghosts were after images not actual human spirits. They got this particular disease if they were the footprint of someone who had ignored a large part of themselves. People who in life hadn’t accepted an identity altering thing. For example, maybe they didn’t actually believe their families religion, or that they didn’t love their spouse. Ledavitis was reserved for the ghost of people who lied to themselves, as much, if not more than to anyone else. It takes a special kind of courage to take an honest look at yourself, your religion, your family, and any of those core beliefs, that feel so much like a part of you. So fundamental to a person, that people have been tortured rather than deny it. I clearly needed some of that courage.

Now in my defense I grew up some time ago, no I am not telling you how long, and didn’t have access to the internet, wizards and water had similar effects on electronics. Also how are you meant to judge your own brain, that makes about as much sense as a ruler measuring its own accuracy. I was normal, well for a wizard, because that was just how I always had been. 

The thing is I noticed men, not often, but once in a while a set of very nice eyes, or abs would get me thinking. Now to all you bisexuals out there you are probably laughing at me. And to all the men that are shaking your head saying of course you notice men that’s just normal. Thank you, that is exactly what I thought. But apparently that means your not quite as close to the ends of the kingly (Kinsley Cingly, whatever) scale than it is possible to be. I had first tried to find another explanation, men as close to 40 as me do not have an identity crisis. We have a midlife crisis, thank you very much. Well I would if I wasn’t a wizard and wouldn’t get to midlife for at least another 100 years. But Ledavitis did not lie. Man, how did the people who got to this conclusion without a metaphorical axe hanging over there heads do it. Like I said, major courage.

Now Ledavitis treated mortals different from ghosts, ghosts are no more alive than a photograph, they couldn’t change their choices, all they could do was pine for the freedom they didn’t have, and that was fine, they weren’t doing any damage, until the ghost caught it. Ledavitis in a ghost, was either caught from another infected, or caused by lightning striking a goose in their vicinity—no I am not in fact kidding, magic is weird sometimes. Bob said it had something to do with the time Zeus associated with a goose. No, it was not a swan, Bob had informed me, they had changed it to protect the dignity of the king of Olympus. Now personally I did not think the type of bird made the slightest bit of difference to the dignity of that tale, but what did I know. After the charred goose, the ghosts had energy to change just a bit from pining to resenting, with enough left over to do something about it.

Mrs Tailor had lived an unremarkable life. Married at 20 with four kids by 30, the normal in the day and age she lived. The thing is some people just don’t want kids, don’t have a maternal, or paternal instinct. She wasn’t abusive or anything. Actually, it was quite the opposite, she lived worked and died providing a good loving family. The line under her name in the cemetery says loving mother. But she had never liked it, unconsciously in a place I’m sure she was very careful not to look. She had never once let it show, but being a mother never brought her joy like everyone said it would. Mrs Tailor probably thought it was normal, Normal I thought resentfully, that every mother was just hyperbolic when they spoke of there love and fulfilment when raising children. 

It wouldn’t have ever been an issue except some goose got struck by lightning outside there old house. Motherhood was something fundamental about one’s identity, a perfect case for Ledavitis. The pining for a life without children quickly became resentment for said children. Fortunately, the family living in the house had had the good sense to call the only professional wizard in Chicago, I am in the phone book and everything. After a harrowing night, Mrs Tailors ghost was gone, and luckily all the children had were a few bruises. And I had walked away with a life-threatening case of Ledavitis.

Life is so not fair.

Wizards are alive and we can still change our course, so the disease presents a little differently. Our magic starts trying to force us to act on the issue we were ignoring or unaware of. Hence the low-grade erection that Bob’s gaze had thankfully avoided, at least at first, I thought uncharitably. You wouldn’t think that you could tell the direction of glowing orbs, but you totally could. Now personally I prefer the connection of another human than jerking off. But I much preferred the idea of solo exploration than talking to Bob about it. 

So, after coming home, when I gave up on my erection going away on its own, at around lunchtime, I came home to jerk off. I had gone into my room and lay down a circle around my bed, to catch the energy associated with a wizard’s release, if it has no one to go to. I really didn’t want to blow the entire block as I blew. I stripped off my clothes mechanically and tried to get comfortable on my bed. An awkward thing to do when you have a large grey cat staring at you, Mouse, my behemoth of a dog, was polite enough to leave, Mister was a cat, so he clearly didn’t care about my opinions. After removing Mister and closing the door I settled back down on my bed. 

What happened next was more than a little embarrassing. I could only get off if it were to the images of men. Nothing killed an erection quite like thinking of the women I found attractive, not even Lara Raith, an honest to God sex demon. I still found them attractive, it wasn’t like picturing dead penguins, it should have worked it just didn’t. That was when I knew it was magical in nature, it had been a while, okay? My body could have been telling me something.  
While trying to get off, I had accidentally pictured Thomas instead of Lara. My half hard cock, that I had been trying, for the last hour, to encourage into orgasm, twitched far more substantially than it had for a fully naked and sensually dancing Lara. I had pulled my hand away from my cock like it burned. 

Nope, no, nopedy nope, nope. I was not getting off to my brother; I could admit that he was attractive, he was a sex vampire, they were all attractive, but he was my brother, which was just gross. My cock was saw regardless, and if I hadn’t gotten off on the purely physical sensations alone by now, I wasn’t going to be able to. Masturbation was off the table, Hell’s Bells. That was when I had given up, gone to see Bob and the laughing had started.

He had explained Ledavitis to me, and I had double checked his information, with Ebenezer, not about the erection, Hell’s bells. Just that Ledavitis was a real thing, the treatment, and the consequences of doing nothing. The consequences were Nasty, with a capital N. The laws of magic forbade the altering of someone’s mind. For good reason too, something like that did damage both to the caster and the victim. Ain’t it lucky that due to a charred goose and 100 year out of date expectations of women, I would have done myself irrevocable damaged within 4 days. 

Happy Birthday to me. And for a present fuck a man within four days or I was dead.


	2. Options

After finding my surprise Bisexuality and the Ledavitis I took the rest of the day off. Sure, I was living with another Doom of Damocles over my head, but I needed a day. I red a book and even risked taking Mouse for a walk, very carefully thinking about the women in my life to keep my dick down in public. I mostly thought of Lara Raith, she was a scary enough monster that I wasn’t truly interested, and a Sex vampire so I didn’t think she would mind. Or maybe she would, after all I was thinking about her to not get aroused. That might be the height of offence, but it made me feel less dirty than thinking about any of the other women in my life.

After the book and the walk with Mouse I was feeling more settled. I had dinner and went to bed; tomorrow was going to be one of those days. In bed I started to think of the men in my life. Thomas was out for obvious reasons. Michael was happily married and there was no way I was getting between him and Charity. That left Kincade, Mac, Billy, Carlos, Butters and Marcone. 

Kincade was my best bet for uncomplicated sex. He gave off the vibe that he’d fuck anything pretty enough if they asked. But he could be anywhere in the world, so it was a bad idea to be solely reliant on him being available. And what would Murph say, they had an on and off again relationship. But she would forgive me eventually.  
With Mac, I had a few suspicions about him, that took sex off the table.   
Stars and Stones, I was actually thinking about this.

Billy was in a committed relationship with Georgia, if it got that desperate, he’d probably swing a threesome, so long as Georgia was on board. I had to work with Carlos, and I knew that he was conservative in these matters. I’d never be able to look at his face again. Butters was a solid maybe, but in all honesty, I didn’t find him or Carlos particularly attractive, and it would be just my luck that this goose induced Doom would care about that.

That brought me to the matter of Marcone. Even when I was playing my hardest to be straight, I hadn’t been able to deny that I found him attractive. Really, really, attractive, I adjusted my pants getting past half hard for the first time today, huh. But as physically attractive as I found him there were reasons that it was just not a good idea. Unbidden, a picture of him smiling like a predator, with his money green eyes, appeared in my head. Huh. Apparently, I found his predator nature to be attractive too. He and Kincade were the only ones on my list that I thought might be interested in sex with men. 

Marcone protected LGBT+ people in his organisation as fiercely as any other member. Normally I’d put this down to his desire to protect his people. But other than Hellen becket –who I was 90% sure was self-flagellation more than sex –he had never been seen with a woman. And there were rumours that the gentleman preferred gentlemen, considering the world he lived in, the fact he didn’t retaliate to those rumours were confirmation enough.

Then it hit me, Executive priority. A high-class gym, hidden brothel, there was no way that Marcone didn’t cater to men seeking men. Thankfully I was confident that adults seeking children was an absolute no go. Gentleman Johnny had given me full and executive access, on the house, there were professionals there. I wouldn’t have to sleep with them, I reasoned, just get some tips, confuse Marcone, and be on my way. Maybe get a good gay bar recommendation and pick up a stranger that clicked with me. 

I wondered if anywhere on the internet, that seemed as extensive as the NeverNever, there was a word for people like me. People who needed to know someone, connect with them on a spiritual level before sex became a possibility. Sure, I found strangers attractive, the way they moved, there smell, the shape of their bodies, but not for sex. I thought I was just old fashioned, but maybe that was like thinking I was straight, while noticing guys. Out there somewhere there was probably a word for people like me. There’s nothing like sharing the internet with 7 billion other people to make you feel less special, or less alone, for better or for worse. 

So that was the agenda for tomorrow; call Kincade and see if he was available, get to Executive Priority, annoy Marcone and get advice, find a gay bar. And if none of that worked, I’d call Billy, Carlos or Butters.

It took imagining Lara Raith doing all sorts of sinful things to me to get to sleep.


	3. Executive Priority

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry is off to Executive Priority

Kincade was not available.

Fuck. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I hadn’t truly thought that he wouldn’t be available. Executive priority was next on the list, and I really didn’t want to, annoying Marcone was not worth this. But I had promised myself and my next option; calling Billy, was even more unappealing. So here I was, stalking the streets of Chicago, mumbling about how unfair a Wizards life was.

I had parked the blue beetle, though it was not so blue anymore, several blocks further away than I knew I could get a carpark. No, I was not procrastinating, I was stretching my legs. I am very tall, they need a lot of stretching. And if that didn’t really explain my current lethargic gate –that kept on getting slower, the closer I got to the glass tower— it’s in a wizard prerogative to do weird things for unexplainable reasons. Adds to the mystic aura.

Executive Priority looked like any other of the glass buildings that surrounded it. The lobby was clean and modern, though I wondered how the staff weren’t constantly on a restroom brake, with the tinkling of the water feature in the centre of the room. There was a security desk in the corner where two very large men in uniform looked at monitors and scanned the entering cliental. Directly opposite the entrance, with two well-dressed professionals at, was the reception area.

I wondered if my stint at the front desk was recorded for training purposes. It would make for a good training video. It would be called ‘How to deal with customers that mysteriously lose the ability to speak.’ I stumbled through, trying to say what I wanted, without being able to say anything coherent. I was a six-and-a-half-foot surly grouch, if I had brought my staff the security guards in the corner would have tackled me, as it was, they were eyeing me wearily. Say what you will about Gentleman Johnny Marcone’s prostitution rings, his employees were safer and better looked after than any others. Eventually, the secretary decided to pass me off.

“Would you appreciate a consultation, with one of our specialists, to determine what the exact service Executive Priority can provide you with.” She said sweetly. That was a top tear, training video worthy, response to my stuttering. I made a half-strangled noise of affirmation in response.  
“Do you have an account with us, or are you a new customer?” She continued, making a few clicks with her mouse. I tried to hold my magic in, so it didn’t disrupt the computer. 

“I should have an account.” I wondered if her professionalism was rubbing off on me, when I stated that without stuttering. She looked up at me, disbelief in her eyes, clearly repeat customers just didn’t have my poise, and coherent language skills. Or maybe it was my good fashion sense, my ratty t-shirt, holey jeans and big black leather duster, was not traditional for anyone, let alone someone that held, and could afford, an account at a place like this.

“Certainly, sir, and the name on the account?”

“Dresden, uh, I mean um Harry Dresden.” No, the coherent sentence before was just a fluke then. She typed something on the computer and made a few more clicks. Maybe Gard had warded the computers, they didn’t normally last this long with me around. When she found my name, Sarah –according to her name tag— froze. Just for a second, but it was noticeable, I wondered what about my account had made her do that. But Sarah was a professional. She shook whatever had spooked her in my file off.

It took a few more questions, to arrange the appointment. I was worried about what Marcone had put in my file, Sarah was bending over backwards to accommodate. My appointment was immediate, based on the slightly shocked look from the other secretary I gathered that wasn’t normal. But given my time limit I didn’t have the time to question. The time before an appointment was probably a security measure, making sure we weren’t a threat to the workers. Or maybe checks that we weren’t undercover police, or perhaps an STD check, I thought a little hysterically.

I was sent up to the third floor waiting room. I took the stairs, getting stuck in an elevator is not fun, and if it was more opportunity to procrastinate, well that was my business. I thanked Sarah, after she had pointed out the stairs for me, she seemed to relax slightly. Hell’s bells, what had Marcone put in my file. Right before the door to the stairs swung closed, I saw Sarah picking up her phone, and collapsing in relief back into her seat.

Stars and Stones John, what the hell.

I was not remotely surprised, that there was another beautiful professional woman, waiting for me at the top of the stairs. She introduced herself as Rebecca and took me to a modern office. The floor was black tile, the desk made of glass, and there wasn’t a single soft edge or surface in the place. Due to the glass desk, I could see the copper circle with runes in it, around the tower of the computer. So, Gard did ward the electronics in this place. I let my magic, I had been holding out a bit, one of the lights flickered and died. 

Rebecca frowned at the light a little. Then gestured for me to take a seat in the uncomfortable looking modern chair. She took her seat on the opposite side of the desk from the one I settled into. There was a quiet knock at the door and a young man scurried in holding a file, he placed it on the desk and scuttled out. Rebecca handed me the file, it was still warm, stars and stones, had they printed this for me as I was coming up the stairs. 

“That is a complete list of services, that Executive priority provides someone with a diamond membership, but if there is anything else that we can do for you please let me know.” She swallowed then and showed a little bit of the nerves Sarah had, and continued.  
“Executive priority, does have a few hard limits, we don’t offer the service of anyone, or to anyone, under the age of 21.”

That got me angry. Not for the reasons Rebecca clearly thought. She shifted nervously in her seat. Another light blew, a little more energetically than the last.  
“Listen Rebecca,” I said, cutting off her apology. Which went something along the line that it was a rule of Executive Priority and it didn’t bend for anyone.  
“I am angry, that the rule has to exist, not that it does.” I swallowed nervously, and ploughed ahead, as Rebecca relaxed slightly and gave me a little smile. “I am nervous enough for the both of us, this will never work if you are nervous too.” I gave her my best smile then, it was probably more of a grimace. But it seemed to make her relax slightly.  
“What are the rest of the rules?” I said hoping routine would calm her further. It did.

“Protection must be worn during penetration; STD checks must be taken.” She paused  
“though that looks like it has been waved for you.” Rebecca said

That made sense, wizards got things like the Doom of the Goose, not STDs. Hell’s Bells, I wished STDs were my current problem.

Continuing on, after my nod, Rebecca said “All parties involved have the right to say no. To anything at any time, if the type of play is not conductive to no, a safeword must be used.” Rebecca paused for a second for my nod of understanding. “Any type of permanent damage is not permitted, nor is asphyxiation.” 

“why?” I said before my brain could catch up. I knew people liked kinky, I was a PI. But personally I hadn’t had the opportunity to try it.  
“the asphyxiation thing, not the permanent damage thing, that makes sense.” I smiled tightly. Rebecca relaxed more flashing a proper smile my way. 

“Asphyxiation is very dangerous, we take care to protect both our clients and our employees, if you are interested however, we do have some options. I am told they give a similar feeling, without the risks associated with oxygen deprivation.” I was shaking my head before she had finished.

“I was just curious.” I took a long steadying breath

“Curiosity, is a good place to start Mr Dresden.” Rebecca said with a legitimate smile on her face.  
“That’s all the general rules, specific activities have some extras. Is there anything you are curious about?” 

“um..” I paused gathering my thoughts, “men?” I said it more like a question.

“certainly sir.” She clicked something on her computer. “I take it men are relatively new to you.” 

I laughed a little hysterically. “How could you tell?” I was more than a little obvious, I knew that. 

she looked up at me and smiled kindly. “We get a lot of people here who want to try something new. And we have more than a few employees that specialise in first time experimentations.” She said reassuringly.  
Hell’s bells maybe I could do this.  
“Okay, I am going to ask you some questions about your preferences, when would you like the date to be?” 

“as soon as possible.” Just because I technically had four days, two and a half now, didn’t mean I was particularly fond of walking around in a heightened state of arousal, doing my own mind damage. 

“tonight then. Do you prefer penetrating or being penetrated?” At that I froze. It wasn’t a question that I had pondered before, the mechanics themselves were out of my grasp. Clearly my face was far more expressive than my voice was at the moment, because Rebecca took mercy on me and said  
“I’ll leave that one blank, have you had much experience with kink?”

“No, none” I said surprised that my voice still worked. Though that wasn’t strictly true. I had once tied up Susan, my girlfriend, when she was part vampire and was inclined to suck my blood. Which would have made her full vampire. That was kinky right. 

“you know what, Mr Dresden, if you are curious there happens to be a party down at the Red Room, or you could just stick with vanilla, we provide both.” Rebecca said. 

“Didn’t that burn down?” I asked, I knew it had. I had been the one to burn it down. Now before you go thinking I am a pyromaniac, I was trying to get Susan out. Before the previous owner –a vampire named Bianca—could do something nasty like turn her into a vampire. I was too late. The back of my eyes stung and my throat hurt.

“Yes, it did. But it was rebuilt in the same location. It is now under the same management as Executive Priority.” That meant Marcone, I relaxed far more than I would ever admit to him. He was leagues above the previous owners. “and technically speaking it is called the Venus club, but the old name stuck.”  
I was tempted to dismiss the offer out of hand, but truth be told I was curious, and I was never coming back here again. Thank Goose for that.

“O..Okay.” I said shakily.

“great, a lovely man named Joseph will be round to your house around eight, the address is on file.” It was? Of course it was, Marcone was a stalker and he never cared if I knew. “it is preferable if you have a shower directly beforehand.” I nodded.

“if you need anything else just call the front desk and ask for another appointment with me.” She stood up, and extended her hand, I stood and shook it. I took my dismissal and snuck out of the building. But I still felt eyes on my back, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that they were money green, and hungry. I shivered, I wasn’t sorry I went to Executive Priority anymore, I wondered what my date with Mar… Joseph would bring


	4. Marcone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry's Date with uh... 'Joseph'

“You, are not a Joseph.” 

It was eight, I was freshly showered and had spent the last half hour pacing. I had been nervous and had known something like this would happen. On my doorstep stood one Gentleman Johnny Marcone, dressed in his typical perfectly pressed suit. The green tie matching his eyes. I swallowed as heat pooled in my guts. 

Lara in a bikini, Lara, Lara, Lara.

“No, I am not.” John said smiling in a way that would be at home on a shark. I shivered. “He has been detained for an hour and told to pick you up from Marcell’s.” Marcell’s was a nice Italian restaurant that I could in no way afford. 

“On me.” Fucking mind reader, or a stalker who knew I hadn’t made my rent last month. Probably a stalker.

John held out his arm like the gentleman he was named for. I needed Joseph, and I wasn’t getting him until Marcone’s curiosity was satisfied. And if the fact that the shiver hadn’t been entirely unpleasant played a role, well you can’t prove that. I slapped his arm away and slunk to the car. The driver, thankfully not Hendricks, opened the door for me and Marcone.

I spent the entire drive trying not to fidget under Marcone’s prying eyes. Lara’s curves never far from my thoughts. Marcone either didn’t trust this driver with the conversation he wanted, or he liked watching me try not to squirm. I was not going to, damn it, I would not break my silence before he did.

We were seated and had our orders before John’s curiosity outweighed his stubborn streak. We sat in a private back room of the restaurant. The smell of our food overriding my nerves, and I dug in.

“I was under the impression you didn’t approve of the businesses I run.” John stated.

I took a second to swallow my food. “I didn’t.” Didn’t? past tense, what? “I still don’t really, but I have seen a hell of a lot eviller things than you Marcone.” Marcone looked intensely at me but nodded. He had been there when fallen angels had tortured a young girl. He also knew what the white council’s wardens did to warlocks. What I had helped them do, I thought ashamed.

Once I would have been on the moral high ground, but not anymore.

“You profit off human misery, and I’ll never be okay with that, but you minimise it, others don’t.” I continued. My meeting with Marcone –several years ago now— had made me interested in him and his business. When I met people, on my cases, involved, all be it tangentially, with Marcone, I had asked them what they thought of the man.

The more I learned, the less I could hate him. He never cut his products, and the large number of overdoses, due to the cutting of heroin, never came to Chicago. I had got that from a doctor that worked with overdose victims. The prostitutes that I questioned, all wanted to work for Executive Priority –health care, safer, a fairer percentage of the profits, and help getting off what ever drugs they were on— ensured that. Vulnerable people loved him, all the powerful hated him. I wasn’t going to roll over and do what the man said. But I no longer held ethical objections to him.

“Thank you, Mr Dresden.” Marcone looked flawed, I didn’t think he cared what I thought, but maybe I was wrong.  
I imagined Lara skinny dipping, and doing something far more seductive than the money green eyes boring into my soul. Hell’s Bells all this thinking of Lara was seriously damaging my snarky ability.

“But I was speaking about your visit to my office, and your hiring of Joseph.” Marcone said. I knew he had been referring to that, but I was ignoring it. “and whatever your changing opinions of my business might be, you are an old fashioned romantic. Miss Raith suspects, maybe even Demisexual.” 

Huh, was that the word the internet used for people like me. “You talked to Lara about me, that is stalkerish territory.” John threw back his head and laughed.

“I am afraid that little conversation went very deep into stalker territory.” He said. 

“Hey scumbag, you are meant to be ashamed of behaviour like that.” Feeling less on shaky ground, now my snark had returned, then a second before.

“Well Harry,” he growled. I imagined Lara pole dancing, that growl did things to my insides.

“don’t call me that.” I protested. 

“I was concerned about the power the white court had over you, with your relationship with Thomas Raith. She assured me that it wasn’t a power play, and that you were welcome to tell me the truth of the matter if you desired.” 

I looked up at that, Lara wanted my relationship with my brother kept secret as much as I did. Thomas and I would not be safe if the truth came out. And Lara may not care about me, but she did care about Thomas. Why did she trust John with this? I shook my head, John could be lying and it would be leverage for him.

“very well.” He said quietly and took a bite of his meal.

I ate some more. Did I want John to know about my ledavitis? Not really no. But if I was going to get Joseph, I was going to have to fess up. John protected his people, I was dangerous. Not intentionally, but people round me, when things went wrong, got hurt. And if I had changed patterns enough that I was hiring prostitutes, things going wrong was a safe bet.

“Zeus was fucked by a Goose.” I said. John’s mouth fell open, and he nearly dropped his fork. I smiled a little in victory.

“And what does that little factoid – interesting though it may be—have to do with today.” John said in a dry tone, recovering quicker than I would have liked. 

“ledavitis, it’s a disease that a ghost, down by the lake, got. Wizards can catch it.” I explained.

“ledavitis, like Leda the girl Zeus reportedly raped while in the form of a swan.” John said. I hadn’t known about the rape in the story.

“I have been reliably informed, that the story with the swan, was made up to protect the dignity of Zeus.” I shrugged my shoulders “not sure how rape, and a swan is better than being fucked by a Goose, but gods are weird.”

“History.” Said John. I looked at him questioningly. “history is weird,” he elaborated, “in Greek times gay sex was perfectly acceptable, but only as long as you were the top. I imagine that raping a woman as a swan was more acceptable than admitting to bottoming, particularly for a goose.”  
I nearly choked on my food. John was talking about sex, that did things to my insides. 

“so, what in particular does this condition entail?” John spoke calmly, I was too busy trying to get my imaginary Lara to stop morphing into Marcone. Marcone pole dancing. Hell’s bells this was getting bad. 

“Dresden?” John prompted

“Oh .. oh yeah.” I straightened in my seat trying desperately to pay attention. “To wizards? It effects ghost differently.” I questioned, to cover my distraction. He nodded.  
“Well Zeus denied that he wanted the goose.” As one would. “So, the goose got its own back, forcing people with magic, to not be able to hide the things about ourselves we deny.”  
“uh we, our magic I mean, enforces whatever we are suppressing about ourselves.” I paused pleading with him silently to interrupt. He didn’t, the scumbag. “So… if we theoretically happened to be slightly more bisexual than we admitted. Our magic would start encouraging us to…, four days is the average till our magic starts forcing us, to have sex with a man.” I was sure I was flushed very red, I looked down at my ringing hands unable to look at John.  
“It’s been two,…” I looked back at John, he wasn’t giving anything away.  
“and I really don’t want to be executed, and mentally damaged, because my magic broke the fourth law.” I said in a lighter tone, looking at John.

“and the kink club?” It was almost a whisper, maybe counting as husky. I gave up trying to keep Lara in my thoughts. 

“Should have known you would get all the records, you Stalker. I was curious.” I shrugged my shoulders trying for light, I don’t think I managed it.  
John put down his utensils and pushed back his chair. 

“So, let me get this straight.” His fingers trailed over the tablecloth as he slowly walked around the table  
“you, Harry Dresden, need gay sex in the next two days.” I pushed back my chair slightly and turned to face him. Ready to respond if he did something I didn’t like.  
“or you’ll die.” That was husky, definitely husky. The fingers that had been trailing over the tablecloth lightly snaked up my arm, pausing in the hollow of my neck. Like he was waiting for me to object. Should I? My skin buzzed where his hand trailed and burned where it touched my neck. I gave up any thought of objecting. I just managed to stop my other hand from reaching out and grabbing his belt loops and pulling him onto my lap.  
I didn’t need to. He straddled me. “and you went to a prostitute.” My hand came up to rest in the small of his back. I liked his weight in my lap, really liked it. “My prostitute.” He said softly. His hips undulated. I groaned. If you haven’t been partially hard for two days, you really can’t comprehend how very, I gulped, very nice it was. 

“your prostitute?” I whispered. Both my hands were on his back now, wandering lower. His back was nice, powerful. 

He nodded. “You must have known I’d find out.” His other hand had joined the first and started playing with the hair at the nape of my neck. He drew my head towards him, like he was going in for a kiss, but at the last second, he missed. His lips going to brush against my ear as he whispered very quietly. “If you still want my prostitute now is the time to ask.” 

Personally, I thought that time had long since passed, and went to say something to that effect but couldn’t get the words to form. Instead, I answered with my hands, letting them do what they wanted to. They went bellow the belt.  
I have big hands. A fact I very much appreciated, as I grabbed John Marcone’s ass and dragged him closer. It was a nice ass, and I was very much enjoying the feel and weight. When he slipped from my grasp, I felt like crying in disappointment. 

Until his lips, that were still very close to my ear, said, “I’ll be back, just need to cancel your appointment and you’ll fry my phone.” And he pulled completely away. 

“Scumbag.” I muttered. He laughed lightly, and went to the door of our private room, opened it a fraction and spoke to our driver outside, in a low voice I couldn’t quite hear. John shut the door and was back in my lap in seconds. He was fast when he wanted to be.  
His hands were back in my hair, only this time they were significantly less gentle, as he dragged me towards him. His lips touched mine. They were soft, that surprised me, nothing about Johnny Marcone was soft. His butt certainly wasn’t, which was where my hands had landed again. His hips rolled slowly against mine. I opened my mouth to groan, but his tongue was licking mine. 

It wasn’t perfect, no first kiss is, that’s a lie Hollywood made up. It takes time to realise what the other person liked. Do they like a little bit of tongue? Barely there, lapping at their lips. Or the equivalent of a thumb war, with tongues fighting inside each other’s mouths. John took my mouth like it was a new land to conquer, mapping it analytically, like he would never be back. It felt good. But there was something about the kiss that bothered me. 

Oh, that’s what it was. He’s not kissing like he would never be back, he was kissing like he would never be allowed back. He wanted this, for some time I’d wager, and he was terrified that tonight was his only chance. The kiss was an audition almost, technically perfect, but not what he wanted, not what he felt. I am classy, or maybe it was demisexual or some other word, but I enjoyed my partner enjoying themselves, far more than my own pleasure. 

I pulled back, John nipped at my lips and rolled his hips against mine, like he was desperately trying to convince me to stay, to come back into his reach. “John, this isn’t a onetime thing, unless you want it to be.” I leaned back within reach. He kissed me gently then. Just lips touching lips. He was breathing hard from lack of oxygen.

“You don’t mean that, Mr Dresden.” he whispered against my lips. “You wouldn’t choose to be here.”

I huffed out a breathless laugh and moved one hand to his short hair, the other to his hip, encouraging him against my very hard cock.  
“Now you call me that Marcone.” I felt his lips curl softly against mine.  
“I had options, not great options granted, but I had them.” My hand in his hair tugged his lips to mine for a firm, if closed mouth kiss. “I choose you, and this is not a one-time offer.” I let go of his hair, snaking my hand back to his arse. He seemed almost sad, butting up like Mister, trying to get my hand back. But his arse was just too good, heavy, firm and moving with every thrust of his hips

Both our mouths were open now, sharing breath. Panting. Occasionally, when he rolled his hips, it would bring his mouth into better contact with mine. Nipping, sometimes with teeth, sometimes with tongue, at my top lip, my bottom lip, and once even my nose. It became a game of expectations, waiting for each roll of his hips, hoping for his mouth with it. That kiss, messy, inexact, and not enough, was far better, than the technically perfect kiss of before.

Because this was John. Teasing me like a big cat with a mouse. Waiting until I thought I was safe then pouncing. Tigers were cats, right? Admittedly the nips at my lips were far more pleasant than what waited for Mister’s mice, or a tiger’s pray.  
I had felt his entire back, at least as much as I could through his suit jacket. I thought I would like his arse best. It was my favourite part of a woman’s body. But honestly his shoulders were better, or maybe his thighs. I hadn’t decided. In women I liked the soft curves, the gentle lines, with Marcone I liked the power. Don’t get me wrong, women can be powerful too, Murphy can kick my ass, but the lines were still softer. Feeling the magic start to soften me, I turned my mind back to John. There was a lot of power in his thighs and shoulders, hard lines to trace, I adored them.

His next roll brought his lips to my mouth again and I groaned. Wishing he would stay there. Or hurry up his hips or something. As his lips left mine again, I breathed out “tease.” He looked like a cat who got a bowl of cream. 

“Say please.” I should have known he would want that, he always had liked me asking for him. His mouth almost came to mine with the next roll. 

“Please, John.” I hadn’t meant to say it, I intended to be contrary. Suddenly John was gone from my lap and under the table, dragging my legs back round, so they were under the table with him. And he pulled my chair in. His positioning of me, resulted in me sitting at the table, like I had been when I was eating.  
The door swung open, apparently John had reacted to a knock I hadn’t heard. Stars and stones how out of it was I?

“Are you done with your first course, sir?” The waiter asked. I was still stuck on the fact the John had stopped. Why had he stopped? I nodded as I reached out with my legs, they are very long, he was in the middle of the table. I hooked one leg around him and nudged him closer.

Apparently, I wasn’t against the idea of exhibition. Just the idea of stopping. And as it turned out John was of a similar mind. His hands started pressing up my inner pant seem, his nose and his mouth trailing. All I could feel though was impressions, I was beginning to despise my pants. Hate had long since sailed.  
A mixture of the floor length tablecloth, my position tucked into the table, and the choice of seats ensured that nothing bellow my waist was showing. Which I was very grateful for, as the waiters efficiently cleaned up what remained of our first course, and John’s hand started massaging my dick. I nearly jumped. Stars and stones was I that close to an orgasm already. His other hand started undoing my belt, as the waiters started to leave.

“We will be back with your second course shortly, sir.” Said the waiter.

The second he left, Marcone pounced, ripping my belt open and pulling down my fly. A light chuckle came from under the table. “I think we can tick exhibition off that list of things you were curious about.” His hand tugged my dick loose. Then started working the shaft. Light kitten touches, that I had to strain to feel were interspersed randomly with rough drags. “I wonder, are you still curious enough to go to the club? Would you like me to take you? They do exhibition there, you know.” His hand was now a lot more consistent, thankfully. I was starting to feel the tension that came with orgasm. When he backed off, the only thing that stopped me from groaning, was the door swinging open. The waiters came in carrying delicious looking dessert. Marcone’s mouth closed on me and I groaned. 

“That looks delicious.” I said, trying to find an excuse for my groan. I was rather proud of my non-stuttering sentence, considering Marcone was going to town under the table. His mouth and its perfect pressure, getting me very close to orgasm again. I muttered faux Latin phrase under my breath. Putting a little bit of will into my spell, so that none of the waiters would notice, why I was so flushed and breathing hard. John backed off right when I was at the edge again. It took me all my will not to growl.  
I had been aroused for two days, I was starting not to care about our audience.

“thank you, sir, I will send your complements to the chef.” Then they scuttled out of the room. 

“Marcone,” I growled. “put your mouth back where it belongs and keep it there.” I wouldn’t normally dare talk to a bed partner like that, but I was over this. I wanted to come. Badly. That got a desperate little sound out of him, but his mouth was back on my dick, I would think about the implications of that sound later. My orgasm rose again.

“Don’t stop, don’t you dare stop, please John don’t stop.” I begged. He didn’t. My orgasm tore through me, massive unrelenting and awesome. I blacked out. When I once again became aware, John was rubbing himself against my leg. I reached under the table and grabbed his hair. Softly pulling, trying to encourage him up, he mewled. “Marcone come up here, you shouldn’t have to get off like that.” It was too late. I felt the warmth of his come spread over my pant leg. 

I slid off my seat grabbing my dessert on the way down, it did look delicious. I found John lying on the ground, looking like he couldn’t quite decide whether he was humiliated or contented.

“Out of curiosity, what kinks did we just get through?” I said offering him a finger full of the dessert, I had left the spoons above. Marcone licked it off. A great big cat, that really was the best way to describe him. 

“Exhibition definitely, dirty talk, at the very least I liked you talking, … ordering, humiliation kink maybe?”

Trust Marcone to carefully label all the things we had done and speak about them like they were no big deal. Marcone had a very organised mind and there was no place for doubt. “maybe?” I asked. 

“It isn’t what I typically like, and I don’t particularly get off on the aftereffects.” Oh, Marcone was embarrassed. I finished licking my finger clean of the dessert, I had gotten myself while Marcone was talking. It was delicious. 

Time to even the playing field. “I would like to go to the Venus club with you, if you were serious.” I offered him another fingerful of dessert. He looked at me surprised; he hadn’t really thought this would happen again, regardless of what I had said.

“There is a Halloween party, a couple of days after Halloween proper? We could go, it is a masquerade thing.” He moved his head into my lap, like I said, cat. I scooped up more of the sweet dessert and fed it to him, and with an absent mind started playing with his hair. 

“Oh,” he said faintly, “it was the hair, not the humiliation, thank God.” I snorted. wiped up the last of my dessert and stuck it in my mouth. I started to prepare to leave, at least from under the table, I am over six foot. It was not comfortable under the table. I looked down at Marcone, and I kid you not, ladies and gentleman, Johnny Marcone, feared mob boss of Chicago, was pouting at me. And my now empty plate.

I was going to send the damn Goose a gift basket, you know, if it hadn’t been toasted by lightning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> first attempt at smut.  
> hope you like it


End file.
